


Defect

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Canon-era AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Snoke-free Ben Solo defects to the First Order out of love. Based on a TFA Kink Meme prompt (but I can't remember the exact wording!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ben meets him in a cantina on the out-of-the-way planet of Boran. 

He's twenty-one and too old for a schoolboy crush, but his years of sequestration with Luke have set Ben back socially. If Luke had his way, Ben would still be with him, the faithful padawan learning and teaching the next group of younglings in the ways of the Force, but Ben can't do it. He needs freedom. “Just for a while,” he tells Luke, as he packs his bag. “I'll come back soon.”

“Your emotions are still unstable,” Luke warns. “You lack moderation. You're impulsive.” Ben knows this refrain. According to Luke, to Ben's parents, to pretty much everyone Ben's ever met, this instability is particularly dangerous, because apparently Ben is susceptible to the Dark Side. He's never seen evidence of it for himself.

“Right.” Ben forces a smile. _Well_ , he thinks, _I'd love to sit around discussing my faults with you yet again, but..._ “I'll see you later.” 

As soon as the shuttle takes off, Ben grabs a knife and slices off the braid that marks him as a Jedi.

 _I'm not ashamed of it_ , Ben thinks. _I just don't want everyone I meet asking me to Force-float them a drink._

The cantina is rough, but not as rough as some he used to visit with his father. That's part of the reason Ben was sent away to Luke. He knows that now, although at the time, it was all a confusing, upsetting mess. His parents were fighting all the time, in harsh whispers Ben could still hear clearly. Han was sliding back into his old ways, drinking and gambling and taking risks, and he was bringing Ben along with him. 

“Do you want him to end up like you?” Ben remembers his mother snapping, loudly because he was meant to be asleep. Instead, Ben was sitting at the top of the stairs, clutching his favourite toy ship, the one that looked a bit like the Falcon, and listening. “A pathetic two-bit con?”

“Better than a smug, self-righteous do-gooder like your side of the family. Oh, but I forgot, your dad wasn't exactly like that, was he?” 

“Ben is in danger of falling to the Dark Side. Luke told us that.” Ben didn't understand what that meant, yet, but his mother had said it before. It made Ben worry there might be something frightening inside him, hidden like a monster and poised to jump out at any moment. 

“Luke tells us a lot of things,” Han said, and stormed out. Ben's mother started to cry. Ben wanted to go down and comfort her, but he was supposed to be in bed, so that's where he went. Three days later, Ben was on his way to train with Uncle Luke. 

The last time Ben was in a cantina like this, he sat on the bar, drinking blue milk through a straw while the bartenders fussed over him and his father disappeared into a back room to do who knew what. This time, Ben strides through the door full of confidence, only to stop dead. It's packed. A band is playing in the corner, but Ben can barely see them through the heaving mass of patrons. Every table is occupied, and at the bar, creatures stand three deep as the single, harried-looking Twi'lek bartender tries to keep up. 

Ben hesitates, but this, he reminds himself, is exactly what he left Luke to find. Adventure, excitement. A taste of adulthood that doesn't involve staring at a single twig for hours on end, or using mind powers to lift scuttled ships out of swamps. Luke is particularly keen on that exercise, for some reason. By the time he was fifteen, Ben had salvaged enough fake wrecks to have his own fleet. 

Squaring his shoulders, Ben marches into the cantina and stands at the edge of the crowd. Slowly, through a sort of osmosis, he's pushed further and further forward, until, finally, he is wedged up against the bar. “Excuse me,” he says, as the bartender passes by. She ignores him. On her next pass, he tries again, louder. “Excuse me.” She looks through him, as if he's invisible. Ben frowns.

“You'll never get a drink that way.” A human beside him says. It takes Ben a moment to understand the man is addressing him. When he realizes, Ben looks over. The man is young, around his age, and handsome, with remarkable red hair and long eyelashes. It's easy to notice such details, as the crowd is pressing the two of them together so intimately that their position would be illegal on some of the more conservative planets. The stranger smells like liquor, although to be fair, the smell could be coming from any of the dozens of beings in Ben's immediate vicinity. 

“What should I do?” Ben asks.

The man's eyes flick over, meeting Ben's. He's more slightly built than Ben, who could probably pick him up with one arm. Ben pictures it, suddenly, his arm around this handsome man's waist, and he looks away, hoping his blush isn't obvious in the dim light. _Pathetic_ , Ben scolds himself. _What are you, fifteen?_

“This.” The man slams a handful of credits down on the bar and says, loudly, “Gamorrean rye. Neat.” His voice, tinged by an accent, cuts through the din. As if by magic, the bartender places a glass a quarter-full of amber liquid on the bar and scoops up the credits. Ben's impressed. The feeling turns to surprise when the man presses the glass into Ben's hand. “Enjoy. But don't drink too fast, you don't seem like you're used to it.” 

“Oh,” Ben says, blinking. “I...” But the man is gone, before Ben can even say thank you. 

He takes the glass and tries to find somewhere to sit. Every chair is occupied, as are many surfaces that weren't designed for that purpose. The crowd is like a living entity, expanding to fit any available space. When the band takes a break, the hoard surges onto the stage, covering it as well. Ben begins to feel short of breath. He looks for the thin sliver of daylight that indicates the door and swims toward it, clutching his untouched drink. He's nearly there when a voice says, “Please, could you help me?”

Ben looks down. It's a woman, waif-like, with long fair hair. She's pretty enough, although it's the sad look in her big brown eyes that makes Ben stop. “What's the matter?”

“My brother.” She sobs into the sleeve of her tattered green dress. 

Amazingly, there's a free chair at her table. Ben sits down. “Can I help?” 

“Maybe.” The woman puts a hand on his arm. Her fingernails are dirty. “He's been missing for more than a week. I had a message telling me to meet him here today, but he didn't show up. I'm worried he's in trouble.” 

“What sort of trouble?” Ben takes his first sip from the glass. It burns all the way down his throat and makes him cough. He clears his throat suavely to cover it up. 

“I'm worried he owes money to the wrong people. Daveen was always bad about gambling.”

“I know what that's like,” Ben says. “My father was a gambler. Still is, for all I know.”

“That's terrible.” The woman's eyes light up with sympathy. “I'm Shastya.” 

“Ben.”

She shakes her head. “We never knew our parents. It was always just Daveen and I. But now he's gone, and if I can't figure out some way to pay his debts, I'll be all alone, forever. I don't want to be alone, Ben.” Her hand tightens on his arm. “I hate to ask this, I know we're strangers, but I would be so, so grateful if you could help, even just a little. So very grateful.” She gives him a strange look. Ben feels something on his leg. Worried about vermin, he scoots his chair back and looks down to see Shastya's bare foot, the toenails painted red, rubbing against his calf. 

“There you are!” There's a voice behind him. Ben turns to see the man who gave him the rye. He claps Ben on the shoulder and says, “I've been looking everywhere for you. Come on.” He urges Ben to stand. _Well_ , Ben thinks, _he did buy me a drink._

Ben casts an apologetic look at Shastya and follows the man. As they step away from the table, the man says, “She's a con artist.”

“What?” Surely that can't be true. Ben didn't get any feeling of deception from her. Ben looks back, but Shastya is already gone, her table occupied by two hulking Besalisks.

“Let me guess,” the man says. Again, they're crushed together by the crowd, his mouth close to Ben's ear. “She's got a sick grandmother or a dying sister or a brother who's been kidnapped by the mob, and you're her only hope.”

“I...”

“She would have robbed you blind.” The man shifts backward a little, far enough for Ben to see his smirk. “Where are you from?” 

“Coruscant.” Originally, anyway.

“Really?”

“I've...been living in the country for a while.” 

“You should go home before you get yourself killed.” The man turns, as if to walk away. Ben watches as, almost of its own accord, his hand goes out and grabs the man's arm. The man stops. 

“What...” Ben tries to think of a reasonable question. He doesn't want the man to leave, but he doesn't know what to say to make him stay. “What's your name?” He tries, then cringes inwardly at the sheer banality of it. 

But the man replies. “Hux. Lieutenant.” He pronounces it “leftenant”. Ben has never heard anything sexier. _You can't fall for the first guy you meet_ , he warns himself. _That's the kind of juvenile shit Luke is expecting from you._ “Do you need my serial number?” Hux asks, as a shabby Wookie pushes past him, pressing him even closer to Ben. Ben can feel the warmth of Hux's body through his plain, long-sleeved white shirt, which doesn't look like a uniform.

“Which army are you with?” Ben asks, grasping at conversational straws. 

“The First Order.” Ben hasn't heard of them. “We're up and coming,” Hux says, as if he can read Ben's thoughts. “The next big thing.” 

“Sure.” He nods, hoping that doesn't sound sarcastic. He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “I'm Ben,” he says. 

Hux looks at him for a moment, then bites his lip. Ben's stomach flips, and he prays he's not going to get hard. Hux would definitely feel it. “What do you do, Ben?” Hux asks. “For work, I mean.” 

He can't tell the truth. He doesn't want to, anyway. “I'm a student.” It's not a total lie. 

“Of...”

Ben swallows. “Philosophy.” 

“Ah. That explains it, then.” Hux says this quietly, as if he's talking to himself. The crowd ebbs around them. “Do you want to go chat outside?” 

“Yes.” Ben has never wanted anything more. He stays close to Hux as Hux unceremoniously pushes his way toward the door. 

There's a park a short distance from the cantina. It's not exactly picturesque. Trash—food wrappers, paper cups, disposable cutlery—litters the ground. Yellow and blue birds, surprisingly attractive, peck at crumbs. The bench where Hux sits is missing two slats from the back and is liberally decorated with graffiti in many languages, but Ben sits beside him, his heart hammering. 

“What brings you to Boran?” Hux asks, conversationally. 

Ben shrugs. It was the closest planet that was far enough away from Luke. “Just a vacation.”

“On your own?”

Ben tells the truth. “I don't really have that many friends.” Or any, in fact. The younglings, including sweet little Rey, adore him, but the two other padawans have always been standoffish. Not unpleasant, exactly, or rude, but they have always kept to themselves outside of training hours, sitting together at meals and placing their mats at the other end of the sleeping hall from Ben's. Ben has thought, of late, that the two of them might be secret lovers, but he can't see how they could possibly manage it. More likely they just prefer one another's company to Ben's. 

“Ah. Well, I can certainly sympathize there. As you can see.” Hux gestures. A few metres away, a Draethos dry heaves over a waiting sanitation pod. “I am also travelling alone.” 

“They let you leave your unit by yourself?” Ben has no idea if this is unusual or not. It sounds odd. 

“I haven't joined it yet. This is my last hurrah. My father's idea,” Hux adds, and the emphasis on the word father leaves no doubt as to how he feels about the man. “I'm meant to be sowing my wild oats.” 

“My uncle didn't want me to come,” Ben says. “He's my J...my philosophy professor.” 

“Something else we have in common, then. My father runs the First Order academy.” Hux's eyes go to the glass still in Ben's hands. “How do you like the rye?” 

“It's great. Thanks.” Ben takes another sip, as small as physically possible. It still burns his throat and brings tears to his eyes. He blinks rapidly, hoping Hux hasn't noticed. 

“It's bootleg shit,” Hux says, dismissively. He holds out his hand. Ben passes over the glass. He expects Hux to pour it out, but instead he drinks it, knocking it all back in one shot. His eyes grow brighter, and Ben knows that, while his speech is clear and his hands are steady, Hux is drunk. He saw the same brightness in Han's eyes, sometimes, when he would come home late and swing Ben wildly through the air “like the Falcon”, while Ben shrieked with glee and Leia looked on with a frown. “I can get you something better at my hotel. If you want.” 

Luke's training program included the basics of sexual education, mostly as a list of feelings Ben and the others should watch for and avoid. Imagination and instinct have helped him to fill in the gaps. Hux is very inspirational, Ben finds, when it comes both to imagination and instinct, but still, Ben hesitates. “I'm not...” Ben doesn't know what he wants to say. This is why he's here. He wants adventures, adult experiences, fun and excitement. A one night stand with a handsome soldier would fulfill all those wishes. Hux isn't exactly sober, but does that matter? They're both adults.

“You're very naive,” Hux says, and even in his clipped accent, it sounds like a compliment. “But even you must know you're very handsome.”

“What?” Ben's not. He has huge ears and a strange nose and he's marred with black spots he will never lose, even as the other padawans outgrow the era of acne. 

“Come on.” Hux sets the glass down on the bench. 

“Should we take that back to the cantina?” It's not the stupidest thing Ben could have said, but it is very close. He scowls at himself, but Hux laughs. 

“Let's go,” he says, and, again, Ben follows him. 

It's a fifteen minute walk to Hux's hotel. Halfway there, as they go through a pedestrian underpass, Hux lunges, pushing Ben against one filthy, cracked stone wall. It happens so fast, Ben doesn't have time to anticipate it. Hux presses his mouth to Ben's. Immediately, Ben begins to worry. Is his mouth too wet? Does his tongue remind Hux of a rathtar? What, exactly, is he supposed to do with his hands? Hux just kisses, his eyes closed and an occasional pleasant murmur coming from his throat. Slowly, Ben relaxes. He lets his hands go where they want, which is to Hux's shoulders, and then to Hux's backside. Hux seems to like that. He leans in. Emboldened, Ben lets his tongue tentatively leave his own mouth, carefully touching Hux's lips, and then Hux's tongue. 

“Woo!” A stranger's voice yells, embarrassingly close. Another laughs. Ben tries to pull away, but Hux keeps him in place. Without looking at the strangers, without even opening his eyes, Hux makes a rude gesture in their direction. They laugh more loudly and move on. A long moment later, Hux steps back. His eyes shine even more brightly, and his mouth is wet. There's a bulge in the front of his trousers, which makes Ben slightly less self-conscious about his own state of arousal. 

“You're good,” Hux determines. Ben feels himself flush with pleasure. “I didn't expect that.” Neither did Ben. “Let's see what else you're good at.” It sounds like a challenge. Ben is always up for a challenge.

Ben expects the hotel to be shabby like the cantina, but instead it's discreetly upmarket, all sleek lines and sterile Durasteel. The lobby is lit with a soothing blue light, and a droid stands behind the registration desk. Despite the high-class look of the place, Ben sees a screen displaying rates by the week, night and hour as he and Hux wait for the lift. 

The room is small, but just as clean as downstairs. The smell of flowery cleaning products lingers in the air. The bed is large, with black sheets made of some shiny material that shimmers in the soft glow of two bedside lamps. 

Ben's nerves come flooding back, and he stands awkwardly in the middle of the room. Does Hux expect him to strip off immediately? Will they have a drink first? Does Hux want Ben to take the lead, or does he want to do that himself? 

Hux shuts the door behind him and immediately takes off his shoes. Ben takes that as a cue. He does the same, removing his shoes and socks with hands that are suddenly sweaty. He stops, frozen in place, when Hux pulls off his shirt. 

He is gorgeous. His frame is light, his ribs showing clearly enough that Ben could count them, but that's obviously not a sign of malnutrition or illness. Hux's skin is very pale, as pale as Ben has ever seen on a human, and dusted with dozens of tiny freckles. Unlike the marks on Ben's own face and body, these little dots are alluring, enticing. Ben wants to trace them with his fingers and then with his tongue. 

“I paid extra for real water in the 'fresher,” Hux says. “So I'm not letting it go to waste.” 

“Okay,” Ben says. Hux continues to undress. He unfastens his pants and, without any hint of embarrassment, drops them and his briefs to the ground. 

Ben has seen cocks before. Excessive modesty is not encouraged by the Jedi. But this is the first time Ben has really been able to look, and he finds he can't look enough. He's bereft when Hux wanders away into the refresher. He takes off his own clothes, listening as Hux turns on the shower. Is he supposed to go in there? Wait out here? This is all so foreign. Ben feels as if he's been dropped into an alien culture. He desperately wants to do the right thing, but what is that? 

“Ben!” Hux calls, a hint of irritation to his voice. Ben sighs with relief and goes into the 'fresher. 

Hux is fiddling with the shower, trying to make the temperature right. He glances over his shoulder, then does a double-take so obvious it would be funny, if Ben were relaxed enough to laugh about anything. Abandoning the shower, Hux turns around and takes in Ben from head to toe and back again, staring shamelessly. Ben's heart lifts. He knows he's in good shape. The Jedi lifestyle is one of physical exercise and good diet, and he's not blind. He sees his muscular chest, his washboard stomach, his powerful arms every day, but he's never been grateful for them the way he is now. 

“You're...wow.” Hux doesn't seem like the sort of man who says, “wow” a lot. 

“So are you,” Ben says, quickly. “Wow.” He means it. 

“I can't wait to suck your cock.” 

Ben's cock can't wait, either. It jumps to immediate attention. Hux slides back the transparisteel doors, and Ben steps into the shower. 

It's been a long time since Ben felt real, warm water on his skin. He'd forgotten the indulgent pleasure of it, the way it immediately heats him to the core. He stands beneath the shower stream, pushing back his hair as it falls into his eyes. Hux wasn't kidding. As soon as the doors shut behind him, he's on his knees, his hands sliding up Ben's thighs. 

“Hux, you don't have to...” Ben was expecting to spend some time kissing first, making out beneath the shower spray. Hux doesn't seem to want that. He looks up at Ben and all of a sudden, Ben doesn't want it, either. Hux licks his lips and Ben backs up to lean against the warm tiles, afraid that he might collapse at an inopportune moment if he doesn't have some sort of support. 

Hux starts slowly, cradling Ben's balls in one hand while he plants little kisses up the length of his cock. That's all it takes. Ben is rock hard at once, leaking already. It's embarrassing. Hux licks him, and Ben's on the verge of coming. “Hux, wait...” He says, but Hux just grins up at him. 

“I don't care if it's quick. I think you'll recover fast.” That's true. Ben's mind is already racing ahead, imagining what comes next. Sucking Hux, jerking him off, maybe even fucking him in that bed with the black sheets. Hux closes his mouth over the head of Ben's cock, enveloping him in a wet warmth so exquisite, Ben feels like his chest is going to burst. Sensation races up his body like a current, filling his brain with the sound of fizzling electricity and shattering transparisteel as he crests the hill and comes in Hux's mouth. It's so amazing that it takes Ben a moment to realize the sounds weren't only in his mind. 

“What...” Hux says, then stops. Ben opens his eyes. The 'fresher has been plunged into darkness. _No._ He swallows. _No, that didn't happen. Please. Please, that didn't happen._

Hux reaches past Ben and switches off the water. An emergency lighting system flickers on, a line of small lights at floor level that bathe the room in a dim red glow. The transparisteel shower doors have disintegrated, leaving only the Durasteel frame and a mountain of shards on the floor. It's joined there by the transparisteel from the broken light and the broken mirror, both of which have shattered into thousands of pieces. 

“What...” Hux tries again, sounding dazed. “Is it an earthquake? We need to get downstairs.” He tosses a towel over the shards, creating a path to the door. Ben trails after him, his vision blurry and his fists clenched so tightly, his nails bite into his palms. He is not going to cry and make this even worse than it already is. 

“It wasn't an earthquake,” Ben says, as Hux perfunctorily dries himself on another towel and throws on his shirt. The window in the bedroom is still intact, thankfully, as are the lamps and the holoprojector. “It was me.”

Hux stops. “You?” 

Ben nods and wipes his eyes with one hand, clearing his vision. “I'm sorry.” 

“You mean...” Hux's expression changes slowly. Ben can see realization dawning and, when Hux frowns, Ben knows he's figured it out. “You're a philosophy student, you said? So, exactly what kind of philosophy is it that you study?”

There's no point in lying now, not when his own body has betrayed him so spectacularly. Goosebumps rise on his rapidly cooling arms, legs, and body, and Ben confesses, “Jedi.” 

Hux's eyes slide shut for a moment. He breathes in deeply. “I'm s—” Ben begins, wanting to apologize again. 

Hux shakes his head. “Don't. You're a Jedi. Fine. That's fine.” He pulls on his pants and fastens them, then takes a bag from the bottom of the wardrobe. “It makes perfect sense, actually.” Ben watches helplessly as Hux ties the bag shut and throws it over his shoulder. “The room's paid until tomorrow morning, so feel free to stay if you want.” He shoves his sockless feet into his shoes.

“Hux, wait.” 

“No.” Hux meets his eyes. They are so cold, it sends a shiver up Ben. For a moment, Hux seems about to say more, but he doesn't. He repeats, “No,” and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Ben wants to follow, but what would he say? There's no denying it. Once again, the Force—something Ben never asked for and doesn't want—has ruined his life. Now that he's alone, Ben lets the tears flow, but he's not sad. He's angry. He feels furious at the world, at his mother who should have known better than to have a child, at his uncle who's done nothing but assume Ben's a Jedi, without ever asking how Ben feels about it.

Ben lashes out, sweeping a lamp from one of the bedside tables. It hits the carpet but doesn't break, so he picks it up, snapping the deceptively flimsy base with his hands. It's comforting, to a point, so he does it with the other lamp as well, breaking it in half and tossing the pieces to the ground. The bed is next. Ben wishes he had his light saber, so he could wreak real havoc, but he does as much as he can without it. He tears all the sheets from the bed. He uses the broken lamp pieces like knives, digging into soft belly of the mattress and exposing its foam innards. He does the same with the faux-leather headboard, carving it up, taking all of his frustration and unhappiness out on helpless objects. The holoprojector is carefully attached to the wall, but Ben is strong enough to rip it out, leaving jagged wounds in the wall itself. He throws it across the room, where it smashes with a sound so satisfying, it snaps Ben out of his mania. 

He breathes deeply and dresses, a wave of calm descending over him as he does up his buttons, pulls up his briefs, fastens his shoes. He leaves the hotel without looking back and heads directly to the shuttle port. 

When he arrives at his mother's apartment, it's early morning. Leia isn't in bed, of course, but sitting at her kitchen table in her bathrobe, drinking caf and looking over documents. She looks up when Ben lets himself in and says, “Good morning,” calmly, as if she was expecting him. 

“I'm not going back to Luke,” Ben announces. He braces himself for a fight, physically squaring his shoulders and clenching his jaw in defiance. 

“All right,” Leia says. Ben blinks, and she continues, “I would never force you to take that path, Ben. I'm hardly in a position to do that. But you can't do nothing. If you want to stay here, you need a purpose.”

Ben looks at the assortment of maps and holograms and datapads spread across the table. “I'll work with you,” he says. 

Leia raises an eyebrow. “If that interests you.” She's not altogether in favour of the idea. Ben can sense trepidation on her part, but she says, “Welcome aboard,” and gets up to give him a hug.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for their notes on the first chapter! You have such great ideas. This is my first attempt at posting a fic one chapter at a time, and it was mostly written before i started posting. Next time, though, I think I'll crowdsource. Or maybe do a Choose Your Own Adventure... :)

Luke doesn't expect Ben to be at Leia's apartment.

It's obvious when Ben opens the door and Luke takes a half-step back. There's no reason why Luke _should_ expect him there. Ben is twenty-seven years old. He doesn't live with his mother, he's only waiting for her to get ready. _In the wrong place at the wrong time_ , he thinks, wondering if he could possibly slam the door in Luke's face and pretend no one is home. 

But, no. Luke recovers and steps inside. “Ben. It's been a long time.”

Six years. “Yes.” 

“How have you been?” 

“Fine.” 

“Good.” 

“Yes.” 

Ben wants to die. It's no consolation that Luke seems just as uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot. “I'm here to see Leia,” Luke says. It's unnecessary—why else would he be here?—but Ben takes up the conversational lifeline.

“She's getting dressed. We're going out.”

“Oh, yes?” 

“Luke?” Leia appears in her bedroom doorway. Ben has never been happier to see her. She's dressed far more elegantly than usual, in a light blue dress with lace edging, her hair in an extravagant, complicated style. She looks, Ben thinks, like she sometimes did when he was young. Like a princess. “I wasn't expecting you.” She embraces Luke. “I'm sorry, we're just heading out. Did you need something?”

“I wanted to talk to you about one of my padawans. Get some advice. But there's no rush. I'll be around for a few days.”

“We can meet in the morning, then. I'll get breakfast.” She kisses his cheek, then glances back. “Come on, Ben. I want to be there early.” 

She locks the apartment door and the three of them walk down the hall to the lift. As they wait, Luke looks at Ben. Ben stares hard at the wall, hoping that will discourage any further attempts at talking. It doesn't, but Luke never knew when to quit. “I've always cared about you, Ben. I still do. I hope you know that.” 

“Mmhmm,” Ben replies, and leaps onto the lift like it's the last shuttle off a burning ship.

The Grand Hotel lives up to its name. It stretches high into the sky above Coruscant, an impressive, imposing building made of grey brick and gold Durasteel. The lobby is equally sumptuous, with thick red carpeting and real paintings—not holograms—depicting historical and fantastical scenes adorning the walls. Admiral Ackbar, an old friend and ally of Leia's, and the pilot Poe Dameron, brought along solely for his charm, are waiting outside, as is C3PO, there on the off-chance they may need help with translation. As the group enters, the manager, a short human male with thin hair and a thinner moustache, sidles up. 

“My apologies, General Organa. I do not believe the First Order party has assembled in the reception room quite yet.” 

“That's fine.” Leia smiles. It's deliberate. Everything about this meeting is deliberate. The First Order are technically the hosts, although they are in New Republic territory, but Leia planned from the start to get there first, to eke out any possible advantage they could. There are many members of the Senate who don't want any Resistance presence here at all, but the First Order requested General Organa personally, and of course General Organa travels with an entourage.

It's meant to be a peaceful meeting with a group that so far has been nothing but peaceful toward the New Republic. Still, Leia doesn't trust them. She's not even willing to give them a chance. It irritates Ben, but whenever he tries to offer his opinion on the subject, he's told that he's “too young”, that he “doesn't remember the old days.” 

“They aren't the Empire,” Ben always counters. It holds no sway with Leia, or with any of her cronies.

The reception room is relatively small, although of course exquisitely well-furnished and well-decorated. After the private reception, the First Order is hosting a lavish banquet in the next room, a party to which more than two hundred of the Republic's senators, business leaders and glitterati are invited. This meeting before the dinner is their chance to “see through the smoke and mirrors”, in Leia's words, and try to ascertain what this “upstart army's” intentions really are. 

“Let's go over it again,” Leia says. The group huddles around like, Ben thinks, a sports team. “General Vrandt is said to be bringing at least eight of his best officers with him. One will be Major Tiga Vrandt, his daughter. Ben, I want you with her all night.” 

Ben sighs. “I've told you, General.” She's always “General” when they're at work. Never “Leia” and certainly never “Mom.” “I'm...not good with women.”

“And for all we know, Major Vrandt isn't good with men. I'm not asking you to marry her. I'm asking you to talk to her, sympathize about being the children of the boss, ask what it's like being a young officer in the First Order, anything. Be friendly. And stick to her. Find out everything you can.” 

“With all due respect, General,” Ben tries, “I think this role would be better suited for Dameron.” 

“Dameron has another task.” Leia turns her back on Ben, effectively dismissing him. He looks away, tuning out the rest of the briefing. There's nothing new. C3PO meanders stiffly around, pausing to cock his head in front of the woven tapestries and the carved statues set into alcoves. Leia keeps talking, on and on until suddenly, she says, “Here they come. Good luck to all of you.” 

Everyone turns. A moment later the heavy doors swing open and a group of men and women with excellent posture, black uniforms and mirror-shined boots stride into the room.

Beside them, the Resistance party looks like what they are: a ragtag group of lifelong rebels rallied around a princess without a kingdom. Ackbar, for some reason, is wearing an all-white outfit that looks too tight for him, Poe Dameron is in an old leather coat, and Ben himself is in a black button-down shirt and casual pants, although he didn't find time to get his shoes shined. Suddenly self-conscious, he tries to rub the scuff marks against the lush carpeting as the First Order delegates approach.

“General Organa. So glad you could join us.” A middle-aged man speaks first. His hair is grey, peppered here and there with strands of black, while his beard is predominantly black with streaks of grey. He offers Leia a salute, which she returns. 

“General Vrandt.” 

“My senior officers.” Vrandt extends a hand, encompassing the two women and the man at his side. “Major Vrandt, Major Alandro, Colonel Hux.” 

It's only been six years. Hux is still handsome, his face unlined, his hair still red. He looks particularly elegant in uniform, a cluster of medals pinned to his chest. Ben feels a blush creep up his neck, but he ignores it. _He won't remember me_ , Ben thinks. _It's impossible._

Handshakes are exchanged. Major Vrandt, as Ben could have predicted, shows no interest whatsoever in Ben, but lets her eyes linger on Poe Dameron. Major Alandro looks at everyone blankly, as if she has no wish to be here, a sentiment with which Ben heartily sympathizes. When Hux takes Ben's hand, Ben looks him in the eye, confident that Hux won't know him. 

Then, Hux says, “I'm so pleased to see you again.” He speaks quietly. The others are too busy exchanging false pleasantries to pay any attention. “You owe me a considerable number of credits.” 

The hotel room. Ben wants to sink into the floor. He'd walked out and never thought who might have to pay for his damage. “I'm...I...”

“Although I admit," Hux continues, "the sheer scope of your destruction was apparently quite impressive. The hotel staff had never seen anything like it.” The blush that has been threatening blooms onto Ben's face. Before he can make any witty reply, before he can say anything at all, Hux moves on, shaking hands with Admiral Ackbar and Poe Dameron. 

The groups break up, mingling and chatting with one another. Hux keeps his distance, and Ben lacks the courage to approach him. He tries to fulfill his mission, asking Major Vrandt how she finds life in the First Order. 

“Fine,” she says. Ben waits for an elaboration, but it doesn't come. 

“It must be difficult, though, having General Vrandt for your father. General Organa is my mother.” 

“It's fine,” Vrandt replies. Dameron passes by, laughing with one of the junior officers. “If you'll excuse me.” Vrandt leaves Ben standing stupidly alone. 

He takes the opportunity to slip out of the room. _If anyone asks_ , he decides, _I'll say I'm looking for the 'fresher._ Next door, the banqueting room is ready, the long table set with gold-trimmed plates, shining silver cutlery and exquisitely fragile, thin-stemmed glassware. C3PO is also there, staring at an urn beside the wall. 

“Master Ben! Do you require my assistance?” He sounds hopeful. 

“No, it's all right, Threepio.” Ben looks at the table. At every place is a small card with a name, written in such elaborate calligraphy that it's difficult to read. “General Vrandt” is at one end of the table, beside “General Organa.” “Ben Solo” is a few seats down, between “Major Alandro” and, of course, “Major Vrandt.” 

“Ben!” The door creaks open. Ackbar looks in with his ever-immovable eyes. “Would you care to join us?” 

“I'll be right there.” Ben forces a smile. The door shuts and Ben waves his hand at Threepio.

“Put me next to Colonel Hux,” he says, when Threepio wanders over. Perhaps Ben will regret it later, but at the moment, he feels reckless. 

“I beg your pardon, Master Ben?”

“Switch around the place cards. Get me next to Hux. Put Major Vrandt beside Dameron,” he adds, generously. “She'll like that.”

If Threepio could look shocked, he would. “Master Ben, I cannot possibly...”

“There are some upgrades you've been wanting, aren't there? Some new programming?”

“Why, yes, but...”

“Switch the cards,” he says, and returns to the reception room. Hux glances up from a discussion with Dameron and Major Vrandt. Ben holds his gaze for a moment before he has to look away. 

By the time the representatives of the First Order and Resistance move into the banqueting hall, many of the other invitees are already in place. Ben's chest constricts uncomfortably as he follows Major Alandro toward the table, but he smiles when he sees the cards side-by-side. 

If Hux is surprised by the seating arrangement, he doesn't show it. He comes in deep in conversation with General Vrandt. When Hux sees his place card, he stops and pulls out his chair. “Mr. Solo,” he says pleasantly, looking at Ben's card. He nods at the woman on his other side, a lower-ranking senator Ben doesn't know. 

Ben forces himself to speak calmly. “Colonel Hux.” 

“May I pour you some water?” Hux takes a carafe from the middle of the table. 

“Please.” Ben's throat is suddenly dry. Hux fills his glass, and Ben takes a long drink. “You've done well for yourself,” Ben says, when he feels confident his voice won't crack like a teenager's. He doesn't know a lot about the structure of the First Order, but going from a lieutenant to a colonel in six years seems like a big jump. 

“As have you. It must be helpful for the Resistance to have a Jedi so highly placed in their organization.”

“I'm not a Jedi,” Ben says. “Not any more.”

“I was not aware that was something one could choose to abandon.” 

“I'm Force-sensitive.” That, unfortunately, is not something you lose. “But I'm just a regular member of the Resistance. General Organa is my mother,” he adds, in case Hux assumes he chose that path on his own. 

“And you enjoy that, do you?” 

Ben hesitates. “Not really.” But, as Leia said, he has to do something. He can't picture himself working in a shop or a cantina. He thinks, sometimes, about going to university, but he can't settle on a field of study, and anyway, there's the issue that he hasn't, technically, been in school since he was eight years old. Ben is not going to sit and take an equivalency exam with a bunch of under-educated riffraff from every backwater planet in the galaxy. 

“Well,” Hux says, “in any case, you're still bloody gorgeous.” 

Ben nearly drops his glass. He recovers just in time, as Hux turns away to face General Vrandt, who is proposing a toast further down the table. 

The food is superb, of course. Ben eats ravenously, as he always does. Hux, on the other hand, picks at his food, barely eating anything. 

“Are you okay?” Ben asks, as he uses a heel of bread to wipe up the sauce from his plate. 

“I'm giving a speech after dinner.” 

“You're nervous?” Since leaving the Jedi order, Ben tries not to use the Force to sense people's feelings. He's tempted, now, but he resists, instead looking at Hux's face—pale, but he's always pale—and Hux's knee jumping beneath the table. 

“It's a career-maker.”

“You must have had those before.” 

“Not like this.” Hux glances over. The senator on his other side seems to be speaking to the man next to her. Hux leans in close, so close that Ben can smell whatever product he uses to stick down his hair. It's got a strangely lemon-like scent to it. “I'm next in line to succeed General Vrandt.” 

“Is that a secret?” Ben whispers. 

“No. But Major Vrandt's planning to change her father's mind.”

“She wants to take over?”

“If I make any mistakes at all, she'll siphon my supporters away.” A crisis of succession. Factions splintering the First Order. It's the kind of thing Leia would love to know about. Ben isn't at all sure he's going to tell her. 

“You'll be fine.” It's not just a platitude. Ben really believes it. He puts out his hand and stills Hux's bouncing knee. “Just imagine yourself doing it.”

“What?”

“Picture yourself doing well.”

He snorts, delicately. “I'm afraid I'm not exactly gifted with the Force.”

“It's not a Force thing.” It could be, but Luke gave it as advice to everyone. _Create positive energies. Imagine the future you want to experience._ “Think about it, though. Really imagine yourself giving the speech in the best way possible. Say the words in your head. Picture how the audience is going to react.”

“Ben...”

Hearing his name from Hux's lips gives Ben a little jolt of excitement. “Just do it. You may as well try.” 

Hux sighs, but he gazes off into the distance. His eyes glass over, and Ben knows he's imagining. When he comes back, Ben smiles at him. Hux rolls his eyes, but when the waiters bring out the dessert course, Hux eats a double portion of hanava fruit cake.

As soon as the waiters clear away the last of the dishes, Hux goes to the podium at the front of the room. Ben wants to help him, somehow, but all he can do is watch and hope. The crowd quietens. Hux's voice is strong and clear enough that he doesn't need an amplifier. Nor does he have notes. 

“All of us in this room,” he begins, and every eye is on him. “Have suffered in our lives. We have suffered war and its aftereffects. We have lost family members, we have lost homes, we have lost planets.” Ben glances at his mother. She's watching, a carefully neutral expression on her face. “For too many years, there has been too much suffering in our galaxy. That is why we in the First Order are pledging ourselves allies of the New Republic. There are differences between us, it is true, but we have far more commonalities. We share a common history, we share a common ancestral home.” He spreads his arm, indicating Coruscant. “We share common goals. Together, we can create order. Together, we can create peace. Together, we can create a galaxy in which our children can live in harmony, never knowing the pain we have had to endure. War can disappear, if we allow it to, and never return. This is the request we make tonight. We ask the Republic's illustrious leaders, the Senate, and to the members of the group known as the Resistance to affirm our beliefs, to accept our olive branch, and take our hand to build a newer, better galaxy with us, a place where the future is far brighter than any sun.” 

Hux extends his hand toward Leia. The room is still. The senators shift in their seats, and Ben knows they think Hux's overture should have been directed at them. Ben's stomach flips and, for a moment, he's certain he's going to be sick. Then, Leia stands. Slowly, regally, she approaches the podium and takes Hux's hand. Hux beams at her, and the crowd bursts into cheers and applause. 

“That was great,” Ben tells Hux later, once everyone has left the table. A Corellian string quartet has set up in one corner of the room, and knots of First Order soldiers and New Republic citizens are speaking and laughing together. 

“It was enough,” Hux says. “For now.” A waiter comes by with a tray of drinks. Hux expertly snags two and hands one to Ben. “I need some air.” 

Beyond a set of double doors is a stone balcony, with two planters of red flowers and a view over the city. There are four chairs, but Hux stands, resting his drink on the balcony's wide railing. Ben does the same, standing as close as he dares to get to Hux. _He'll be gone in the morning,_ Ben tells himself. But maybe, he counters, he'll be back soon, now that their respective groups have pledged to work together. 

“You're an amazing speaker,” Ben says. “I mean it. Nobody else could have got my mother to shake their hand in front of everybody.”

“She doesn't believe me.” 

Ben blinks. “What?”

“She thinks I'm lying. That we're lying.”

“Are you?” 

Hux looks at him. “Why are you here?” He asks. “You don't seem like the rest of them. Your mother and old squid-eyes and that pilot, the galaxy's gift to humanity, I mean.” 

Ben smiles. He's never heard a more accurate description of his mother's associates. “I had nowhere else to go.” 

“You really didn't want to be a Jedi anymore?” 

“I never did.” That was the truth. “I wasn't offered a choice.”

Hux takes a drink and looks out at the twinkling city lights. “Would you ever consider joining the First Order?” 

Ben laughs aloud, then Hux meets his eye and he realizes that wasn't a joke. “I'm not...disciplined like that. Like you are.” The idea of putting on a uniform every day, of marching in a line and submitting to a commanding officer the way he once submitted to his Jedi master makes Ben's skin crawl. 

“You could be. Your abilities with the Force would be a great asset.” 

“You'd be an asset to us, too.” The idea jumps into Ben's mind. “Within the New Republic, I mean. The senate could use someone who can speak like you.”

“I could never leave the Order.” Hux puts down his drink and takes a step closer. “So I guess, once again, our time together is limited.” 

A wave of irritation passes over Ben. “You were the one who walked out.” Ben had been young then, and had put the blame entirely on himself, but Hux was the one who left him in the hotel on Boran. “You got scared...”

“Not scared.” Hux sounds surprised, like he'd never thought Ben would interpret it that way. “Not at all.” He licks his lips and, just like that, Ben's irritation is gone. “But I don't want to talk about that now.” 

“No,” Ben agrees.

Ben takes the lead. He puts his hands on Hux's slender waist, and Hux puts his arms around Ben's shoulders. Ben feels a hand in his hair as he leans forward. Hux is ready for the kiss, his lips already parted. They fit together well, just like the last time. Hux responds to every movement of Ben's tongue. 

This time, Ben is not so anxious about the mechanics of it. He's had experience, a little, in the intervening years, and while none of the so-called “relationships” have lasted long or meant anything, they have at least boosted his confidence. He takes Hux's mouth with skill, gratified when Hux makes an appreciative moan deep in his throat. 

“Ah, excuse me.” A voice breaks in. Ben longs to ignore it, to dismiss whoever it is with an obscene gesture the way Hux dismissed the hecklers on Boran. But Hux pulls away, so Ben has no choice but to do the same. 

Poe Dameron stands in the doorway. He's smirking, a little, but then he's always half-smirking. “Sorry to interrupt. General Organa is looking for you,” he says to Ben.

“Tell her I'll be there later.”

“No, it's all right.” Hux picks up his glass. “Perhaps we could meet for a drink afterward. In the bar?” 

Ben nods. Before Hux leaves, he plants another kiss on Ben's lips, quick and close-mouthed. Ben's heart, already full, overflows with emotion at this little act of defiance. He's so thrilled by it, he doesn't even mind when Dameron says, “You should watch out,” in a tone that makes it clear he doesn't think Ben can take care of himself.

“Thanks,” Ben says. It doesn't stem Dameron's font of wisdom.

“That sleeping with the enemy thing, it never works.” 

“They aren't the enemy.” Was Ben really the only person who believed that?

Dameron shrugs. “I just know you're an emotional guy. I don't want you to get hurt.” 

Ben rolls his eyes. “Right. Okay. I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I mean it, Ben. They're dangerous, and I like you.” _Liked me enough to fuck me three times then say it wasn't me, it was you._ Ben's a little taken aback by his own bitterness. That was several years ago, and he doesn't want to rehash it now. Not when he has Hux waiting for him. 

“I'll be fine. Really.” Hopefully, that's clear enough even for Dameron. It seems to be. He takes Ben to his mother without offering any more “helpful advice.”

General Organa is ready to leave. “I think we've seen all we need to,” are her exact words, as she stands in the hotel foyer. 

“I might stay a little longer,” Ben says. Leia raises an eyebrow. “I think I'm getting somewhere with Major Vrandt,” he adds. 

“I haven't seen you spend much time with her.” 

“It's...subtle.” 

Leia looks at Dameron. For a moment, Ben is certain Dameron is going to sell him out, but he doesn't. He says nothing, and Leia replies, “All right. De-brief is at 0900 tomorrow. I think you should come by my place earlier, if you can, Ben. Luke might want to speak with you as well.”

“Right,” Ben says. He has no plans to do that. Leia leaves. Before Dameron goes, forever trailing after her like a puppy, he looks at Ben again. 

“Be careful,” he repeats, a hand on Ben's arm. Ben shakes him off and heads for the bar.

It's busy. The well-dressed overflow from the dinner party are indulging themselves in fancy-looking drinks that sparkle and bubble and, in one case, blaze. Ben glances around, but Hux is nowhere to be seen. Ben hesitates. Could Hux have been waylaid by his commanding officer? Would he want Ben to wait here, or seek him out?

“You Ben Solo?” The bartender asks. 

“Yes.”

“Message for you.” He hands over a slip of actual paper. The numbers 2308 are written in neat, precise writing. 

“Thank you,” Ben says, but the bartender is already off, serving another patron. 

The anxiety comes back, rising in Ben as the lift carries him up to Hux's room. He wipes sweaty palms on his pants and reminds himself he's a man of experience now. _Not as much experience as Hux,_ a traitorous inner voice chimes in. That's true, but Hux doesn't seem put off by it. Rather the reverse. 

When the lift stops at the twenty-third floor, Ben gets off. He finds 2308 and breathes deeply, smoothing his hair and wondering whether he should have stopped in the 'fresher to check himself in the mirror. Too late now. As he raises his hand to knock, the door swings open, revealing Hux in a pair of black briefs and a black undershirt. 

“Hello,” he says. 

“Hi,” Ben replies and goes into the room, as if drawn by a magnet. 

He and Hux lie together for what seems like hours, kissing and fondling and gradually removing articles of clothing. Ben is down to his unbuttoned shirt and briefs and Hux to his briefs alone when Hux stops Ben's questing hands and whispers, his mouth close to Ben's ear, “Do I need to worry about the windows?” 

Ben hides his face in Hux's neck. “No,” he mutters. Then he qualifies, “I don't think so.” It wasn't a problem with the other three men and one woman Ben slept with. Although with the woman, Korr Sella, Ben had panicked, she'd confessed her crush on Dr. Kalonia, and they'd spent the night watching holofilms, so that doesn't really count. 

“It doesn't matter.” Hux runs his hands up Ben's back, winding his fingers in Ben's hair. “I can afford it. Just try to keep the bed intact, all right?” Ben growls, involuntarily, and pushes Hux's briefs out of the way, leaning back so Hux can do the same to him. 

It's never felt like this. Hux wants to do it face-to-face, and Ben is not about to argue, or to admit he hasn't done that before. The sensation of being enveloped in Hux, of having Hux's legs around his waist and Hux's tongue in his mouth even as he fucks deep into Hux's body is overwhelming. Sheer force of will and determination to make it better than last time are the only things that keep Ben from finishing within seconds. He holds on, but when he puts his hand on Hux's cock, Hux says, “Ben,” so loudly and with so much feeling that Ben loses his grip. 

As soon as he's done, he slides out of Hux and down the bed, putting his mouth on Hux's cock. He pants around it, trying to catch his breath. Hux writhes beneath him. A moment later, Ben is choking inelegantly while Hux comes, and, a moment after that, he feels himself pulled upward, draped over Hux like a blanket. While Hux lies there, chest heaving and eyes tightly shut, Ben risks a glance around the room. Lights still on. Mirror still intact. No sudden breeze from the loss of the window. 

_Thank you._ He thinks. _Thank you, thank you, thank you._ Ecstatic, Ben kisses Hux's face—his cheeks, his nose, his forehead—over and over. Hux catches him and brings Ben down to his mouth, seeming to revel in the taste of himself on Ben's tongue. He's clearly satisfied, and happy, and Ben feels like crying, but in the good way. 

***

Ben wakes up suddenly, yanked from a vaguely pleasant dream by a sensation he hasn't felt in years. He sits up. Beside him, Hux is sound asleep, lying on his stomach with his face turned away from Ben. Carefully, Ben gets out of bed and fumbles on the floor for the closest pair of underwear. They're Hux's, so they are tight. He creeps toward the door and pulls it open, just enough to peek into the hallway. 

A figure is moving down the corridor, dressed in black. If it hadn't been a Jedi, Ben wouldn't have known it was there. It's moving stealthily, blending into the shadows, a hood over its head and a mask pulled up over its face, so only its eyes are visible. Ben's skills are no longer attuned enough to know exactly who it is, but it's someone he knows. He can feel that much. Ben watches the figure move nearer and nearer. When it's within arm's reach, he strikes. It yelps and Ben pulls it into the room, shutting the door behind them.

“Who are you?” He demands, in a harsh whisper. The figure pulls down its mask. “ _Rey_?” If he'd had to guess, hers would have been the last name on his list. 

“I thought I could sense you!” She grins, like they're back at Luke's, playing hide-and-seek. 

She's changed a lot over the years, although not so much that Ben can't recognize her. Ben imagines he's changed less. “But what are you doing in here, Ben? The map said a Colonel Hux was in this room.” She looks past him, toward the bed. “Is that him?” She takes in Ben's state of undress. “Are you...”

“Why are you here?” He cuts her off. 

“I'm going to assassinate General Vrandt.” 

“What? What do you....” She can't be serious.

“I had a vision. Of the future.” Ben feels a stab of irrational jealousy. He tried for years to see the future. That, or a Force ghost, preferably Obi-Wan Kenobi. He never succeeded. “I have to do it.”

“Does Luke know you're here?”

She sighs. “Luke doesn't understand how important this is. He became...different after you left.” So different, he wanted to meet with Leia regarding trouble with a padawan. Ben doesn't have to think too hard to figure out who the troublesome padawan might be.

“You need to go home. This is really Dark Side stuff.”

“Is it? Even if by killing one man, I can save billions?” Ben's not sure. “These people will do great harm. I know it, Ben.” Even in the darkness, the zeal in Rey's eyes is clear. “If we cut off the head of the snake, the body will wither and die. But we won't get a better chance than this. We have to act now.” 

“Do it.” Ben turns around. Hux stands behind them, the patterned bedspread wrapped around him like a robe. “If Vrandt goes tonight, I'm well-placed to succeed him. I'm not like him,” Hux says, addressing Rey. “You can trust me.” 

Rey looks at him. “Are you boyfriends?” She asks, showing her youth. 

Ben hesitates, and Hux replies for him. “There are obstacles between us. You can help us by killing Vrandt.” 

Rey's eyes don't leave Ben's. He knows she's trying to read him, to see if he trusts Hux. _Do I?_

“Are you sure you want to do this, Rey?” Ben asks. Whatever the reason behind it, this is a huge step, the kind of thing that will change her for life. It has to.

Hux reaches out and takes Ben's hand. “She's right. It needs to happen.” 

He pulls Ben aside, further into the room. “How well do you know her?” Hux asks, quietly, when they are nominally out of Rey's earshot. 

“I knew her when she was a kid.” A smiling kid, wide-eyed and amazed by everything. This Rey, confident and almost fanatical, is alien to him. 

“Can she do the job?” 

“Yes.” There, Ben doesn't hesitate. Rey was the strongest of the younglings, so strong that it gave even Luke pause. 

“Then you need to get out of here. I have to be alone when they come to give me the news.” 

“Hux...” Ben doesn't want to go. He wants to stay here with Hux, to sleep beside him, to make love again and again and never stop. 

“Join the First Order,” Hux says, and there's an edge to his voice, the tone of a man used to giving orders and being obeyed. 

The offer is tempting. _Why not?_ Ben asks himself. It's not like he has any deep devotion to the Resistance, not really. But when he speaks, he says, “I can't.” 

Hux nods, as if that was the answer he was expecting. He pulls Ben close and kisses him more tenderly than he ever has before. When their lips part, Hux says, “I l...like you a great deal,” and hands Ben his clothes. “Good-bye.” 

Ben's halfway to the lobby before he remembers he's still wearing Hux's briefs.


	3. Chapter 3

It's raining when Ben wakes up on his thirtieth birthday. It fits his mood. _Thirty years old_ , he thinks, as he pours himself a cup of caf. _And I have nobody._

It's not entirely true. He has his mother, who's invited him for brunch. He has a couple of friends. A message from Rey is probably awaiting him, wishing him happy birthday and pleading, yet again, for him to come “home” to Luke and complete his training so they can eliminate the First Order together. Less ambitiously, Korr Sella would be happy to go to a holofilm with him. Poe Dameron would probably even give him a pity blowjob if he wants one, but since Ben would rather slice off his own cock with a bread knife than ask, it's not going to happen. 

Still, Ben doesn't have what he really wants: a partner, a boyfriend, a man to love him. Someone who will take risks for Ben, and who will accept all the love and devotion Ben has to offer without being scared off by it. _And who's really great at sex_ , Ben adds. That's important, too. 

Ben's not stupid. He knows, partly, why he hasn't been able to find a new guy, and that's because he can't get over the old one. Ben still thinks of Hux, every day. He doesn't have a choice. Hux's face is everywhere, all the time, denouncing the New Republic and the "Jedi scum" who killed his predecessor. 

He was the biggest mistake—the biggest miscalculation—of Ben's life. General Vrandt's body was barely cool when all thoughts of peace with the First Order vaporized. Major Tiga Vrandt was executed on some unlikely charge, and the newly minted warmonger General Hux took control.

Leia wasn't offended by the turn of events. She wasn't even surprised. “His rhetoric shows Hux is desperate to rally his troops behind him,” she said, as the Resistance leaders sat around the meeting table days after the First Order banquet. “That indicates his position is not assured. He won't last long.”

“It doesn't make any sense,” Ben broke in. “Why would they say they want peace, and then do this?”

“The Empire has always seen the Senate as weak and the Resistance as a threat. They want to destabilize us, to turn us against one another.” 

Leia seemed so sure of herself that Ben's irritation rose. “They aren't the Empire!” It was stupid to defend Hux at that point, of course, but it never sat well with Ben that she didn't even give them a chance. 

“The hanava fruit,” Ackbar said, wisely, “doesn't fall far from the tree.” He looked at Ben. Ben didn't know if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult. 

Rey, of course, was devastated. 

“I misinterpreted the vision,” she cried, literally sobbing onto Ben's shoulder. “I'm going back to Luke, to finish my training. You should come, too. He'll have you back, Ben, I know he will.” Ben knew it, too. Rey took his hand and gave him a watery smile. “We can finish them together. Like a brother and sister in the Force.”

“That's very sweet, Rey.” Not to say dramatic. “But that door is shut. I can never go back.” He wouldn't want to if he could.

Two and a half years on, Ben's still working with the Resistance, although not in any particularly meaningful capacity. Ben can fly, but he's too tall to pilot an X-wing. He has some knowledge of healing, but he doesn't have the bedside manner to be a medic. He floats, filling in wherever he's needed without any designated role. Without any purpose of his own.

Leia doesn't know how deeply Ben was involved with Hux. At least, Ben hopes she doesn't. She never said anything to him about his initial faith in the First Order, but she's not one to gloat. She's not one to hide anything, either. When Ben knocks on her apartment door on the morning of his birthday to find her still in her bathrobe, he's immediately suspicious.

“I came for brunch,” he says. Leia's expression is blank. “You invited me.”

“Oh, of course.”

“I didn't realize you were sleeping in.” She never sleeps in. 

“No, no. It's fine, darling.” She never calls him “darling.” “I'm just getting the flatcakes on the griddle now. You always loved flatcakes. Here, come into the kitchen...” Too late. Leia's bedroom door opens and a grey-haired man steps out. Ben stares, his mind unable to form any thoughts, as the man slowly turns around. There, in all his naked, flaccid glory, stands Han Solo. 

“Ben!” Han has the audacity to grin. “Hi, junior. It's been a while, huh?”

“A long while.” Years. Ben doesn't know exactly when he last saw his father, but it was long ago and it ended badly. It always does. “It's my birthday,” Ben says, stupidly, like a kid. Han's smile grows.

“I knew that!” It's a lie. He couldn't see through Hux, but Ben can see through Han. He's had more practice. “That's why I'm here. Just let me take a quick shower, and you and me can go for a round of holo-golf or something, yeah?” Ben's never played holo-golf in his life. He goes into the kitchen, not sure whether he's angrier at his father for not knowing that, or at his mother for letting Han in at all. 

“Why is he here?” Ben snaps. Leia frantically mixes the flatcake batter, as if it has done something to personally offend her. 

“It's complicated, Ben. I don't expect you to understand.”

“I understand that he left you.” The news had come to Ben after he'd been with Luke for nearly two years, but even then, Ben suspected it had happened a long time earlier. 

“You don't know the whole story.” She slaps the batter onto the griddle. It splashes, sending droplets onto the wall. “Anyway, he has information for us.”

“Information?”

“Intelligence about the First Order.” Leia fills a glass with blue milk and slides it over to Ben. 

“What does he know?” 

“He can tell us over brunch.”

“So you don't actually know if he has anything useful to say.” Han conned his way back into Leia's bed with promises, which will likely turn out to be worthless. _What else is new?_ Ben thinks. Leia flips the flatcakes with a vengeance. 

“So,” Han says, as they sit around the kitchen table. Ben can't remember the last time they did this. Before he was sent away to Luke, certainly, which means more than twenty years ago. Han, oblivious as ever, pushes a stack of flatcakes onto his plate and smothers them in syrup. “How's life, junior?” 

Ben doesn't dignify that with a response. “Mom says you have information about the First Order.”

Han smiles. “I knew you'd end up like her, once you evened out.” 

Ben frowns. “Evened out?”

“Han, just tell us what you have to say,” Leia breaks in. “Please.”

“Okay.” He leans in, like they're in some rowdy cantina, struggling not to be overheard. “There's this planet, Xeneca. Small place, not much there, but they've got huge mineral deposits. The First Order's gagging for them, but the Xenecans aren't interested in negotiation. So you can imagine how that's going to end up.” 

“The First Order's going to attack Xeneca?” Ben says. Han nods. “When?”

“Within the next three days. As soon as I heard, I knew I had to come back here and tell you.” He looks at Leia. 

“Has anyone told the people of Xeneca?” asks Ben.

“Probably, but it won't help. It's a very small population, like I said, without much in the way of defenses. And once the First Order decides they want you, you're rolling over for them. So to speak.” 

Ben looks away.

“If we could get a group out there in time,” Leia says, “maybe we could give the Xenecans a fighting chance.” 

“Maybe.” It seems pointless to Ben. Even if the Resistance succeeds, the First Order will be back another day, with more troops. Still, the Resistance exists to make life harder for the First Order, even if just for a little while, and making life harder for the First Order means making life harder for General Hux. Ben is very much in favour of making life harder for General Hux. “I'll help out,” Ben says, on impulse. 

“Are you sure?” Leia asks. It's a fair question, he supposes. His work, even during wartime, has been mainly administrative. Still, he trained for years as a Jedi, and he can shoot a blaster as well as anybody. 

“Yes.” Ben's suddenly determined to do it. It's the best idea he's ever had. “Get a group together, and I'll go with them.”

“I'll go with you, too,” Han says. 

“I don't think that's really...”

“Come on, Ben.” His father looks at him. “I've changed over the years, just like you. Give a guy a second chance?” It's not his second. It's his fifth, or twentieth, or fiftieth. Ben stopped counting long ago. 

“I can't stop you, I guess,” Ben says, which Han treats like the most resounding of endorsements.

“That's my boy.” He reaches over to clap Ben on the shoulder. _No,_ Ben thinks. _I'm really not._ Leia gets up to make the comm call, and Ben comforts himself with a mountain of flatcakes. 

The _Falcon_ is much smaller than Ben remembers, although he's prepared to admit that's probably because he's much bigger than last time he was aboard. Chewbacca, too, seems a little smaller, only in that he no longer looks like he touches the sky. He hugs Ben effusively, then tousles his hair. 

“You're an old man,” Chewie wails. “When will you give me some grand-cubs to play with ?”

“I think it's better for all of us if I don't reproduce,” Ben replies. Chewie howls with laughter. 

At one time, Ben would have sat up front, probably on Han's lap. Now, he stays in the back, watching some sort of sport on the holoprojector. The ship takes off, rattling and clanging the way it always did, like it's about to fly apart. It holds itself together, though, and when the ship settles into cruising speed, Han comes back. 

“Hey.” He sits down across from Ben. “What's the score?”

“I don't even know what they're playing.” 

“Oh.” 

He wishes Han will leave. Ben has nothing to say to him, but of course, Han doesn't care about what anyone else wants. “Listen,” Han says. “I'm supposed to talk to you. Your mom says you've got guy trouble.”

“What?” 

“That some guy broke your heart. She doesn't know all the details, but she says you haven't been right for a long while. Want me to go after him?” Han crooks his mouth into a smile, but his eyes tell Ben he's not joking. Ben imagines, briefly, the sheer lunacy of seeing his decrepit old father take on the First Order's commanding general because he “broke Ben's heart.” It's almost funny. Almost. 

“No. I'm fine. You can leave me alone now.”

Han doesn't move. “No way, junior. You know your mom. She tells you to do something, you do it, right? So we're gonna talk.”

“Just go, Dad. Please.” Ben considers walking away, but Han will likely follow him. 

“You think I don't know about guys? Me and your Uncle Luke slept together three...no, four times back when we were young. And it was a damn close thing between me and your Uncle Lando a couple of times, too.” 

“Dad!” 

“Look, the point is, men, women, something else, it's all the same. You need to let go of the past and put yourself out there. Don't think about what might happen, just go for it. That sure isn't a problem for you normally. Never has been.” He puts a hand on Ben's shoulder. “Ben, I know I haven't been the galaxy's greatest dad, okay?”

Ben didn't think this could possibly get any worse, but it has. “You don't need to--”

“But I love you. And I love your mom. And I hope we can work things out. I really mean that.”

He doesn't ask for a hug, for which Ben is eternally grateful. He does look at Ben, though, until Ben shrugs. Then Han smiles, as if that's some kind of answer, and finally leaves him alone. 

Ben is more than half-expecting Han's information to be faulty. He is, at least, right about the population of Xeneca. There are less than five thousand beings, three-quarters of whom are residents of a religious community—a sort of monastery, it seems—in the northern foothills. 

Leia's ordered a group of a hundred Resistance fighters to Xeneca, along with a couple of X-wings. Under the command of Admiral Statura, the ground crew sets up base in a cave not far from the monastery. The thick, mineral-rich rock will hopefully provide a natural barrier to the First Order's surveillance equipment, so they can retain the element of surprise. Ben, who is equally hoping to avoid any other expressions of fatherly affection, avoids Han as much as he can. He fills canteens at the underground spring, organizes the blasters, and keeps to himself the way he always does. He's glad—and, admittedly, fairly surprised—when just sixteen hours after they arrive, a shuttle lands outside. 

The civilian population, which is ninety percent of the population, has been ordered to take shelter in the monastery. The few Xenecans who are prepared to fight, mostly grizzled old veterans of the Empire days, hurry to join the Resistance. They wait, hidden behind the rock, listening to the shuttles disgorge their occupants. They wait as heavy Stormtrooper footfalls crash over the ground. They wait until Ben hears a distinctive voice order, “Burn everything. Including the monastery.” 

The sound of Hux's voice is like a blaster shot to Ben's brain. Everything else disappears. Ignoring the frantic gesturing of his comrades, Ben steps out from the shelter of the cave. His action forces them to act. Statura gives the signal, and they come roaring out of the cave with their weapons in hand. 

The Stormtroopers, still disembarking from their shuttle, are taken aback only for a moment. At once, fierce fighting begins, a cacophony of shots and screams bursting through the air. Ben ignores it. He walks through the melee, using his long-neglected Force abilities to deflect one blaster shot and then another. Hux sees him coming. He steadies his expression and looks at Ben evenly.

It happens in slow-motion. Ben sees his own fist lash out and strike Hux, punching him in the face. As blood appears beneath Hux's nose, there's a pain in Ben's left side. For a brief moment, his brain cross-wires and he thinks, strangely, that he has somehow hurt himself. Ben looks down. A dark patch spreads beneath his jacket. Curious, he puts his hand over top of it, then pulls it back. It comes away sticky and red. 

“No.” Hux's eyes grow wide. He ignores the blood marring his own face—later, Ben realizes that this speaks to just how much Hux cares, that he would allow himself to be so dishevelled for even a few moments—and grabs Ben by the arm, pulling him up the ramp into the shuttle. 

It's better lit than Ben would have expected. He's always thought of the First Order as dark and sinister, but inside, the shuttle is bright, the harsh lights reflecting off the shiny metal surfaces. Hux takes off Ben's jacket. The intensity of the pain increases. Ben glances down again, to see the wound has dyed his white shirt bright red.

“Lie down,” Hux orders, pointing to a bench. As Hux grabs a medikit down from a shelf, Ben complies, feeling a bit lightheaded. Then he remembers he hates Hux. 

“You lied!” 

“Shut up.” Hux tears off his own gloves and yanks up Ben's shirt. He pulls a blue bacta patch from the kit, peeling off the back and sticking it down over the wound. Ben recoils from the pain, and Hux mutters, “Sorry.” The patch isn't big enough. Hux gets another, overlapping the edges to cover it all. Slowly, the pain recedes.

“It'll do for now, I think,” Hux says, “but you need to see the medic soon.” His voice is anxious, skirting the border with panicked. It softens Ben's heart a little, but not enough.

“You lied,” Ben says, again. That's the most important issue here, and he's not about to let Hux forget it. 

Hux sighs. Sitting back on his heels, he takes a sani-tissue from the medikit and dabs at his own nose. “I didn't lie to you. I l...like you enormously. Too much. Do you think I help every hayseed I meet in a cantina?” 

“But you looked my mother in the eye and lied. How could you?”

Hux looks at him. In the bright lights, Hux's skin seems paler than ever, his hair more striking. “I grew up in a terrible place. The Resistance forced my family into abject poverty. They did the same to a lot of people. They destroyed the Empire, and they didn't offer anything in return.” Ben never thought of that. “All the Republic's interested in is lining their own pockets. The Jedi are no better. They claim to have so much power, but all they care about is themselves and their stupid legends.” Ben can't argue. For all Luke claimed to care about him, he was more interested in telling Ben how potentially dangerous he was than in doing anything to help him. “We need to take control of the galaxy. We need to step in where everyone else has failed. Vrandt couldn't see that, not the way I do.” Hux wipes his nose again, leaving a trail of bright red on the tissue. “That was why I ran out on you that first day. How could I...” He licks his lips. “How could I feel so much for someone who's meant to be my enemy?” 

Ben knows it's a rhetorical question. He answers it anyway. “I feel it, too.” He feels something, anyway, and it's more than he's ever felt in his life. Two brief encounters in nine years, and Ben can't stop thinking about Hux. Ben is furious with him, but he still desperately wants them to be together. Is that love? Would Ben recognize love if he saw it?

Outside the shuttle, the fighting rages on. Ben hears Chewbacca holler victoriously. _Don't think about what might happen_ , his father's voice tells him. For all their complaining about Ben's impulsiveness, It's practically Han's motto. _Just go for it._

Ben reaches up. The movement pulls at his wound, sending another sharp shock of pain through his body. He ignores it. He grabs Hux by his uniform and drags him in close, pressing their mouths together. “All right,” he says, when he lets Hux go. 

“All right?” Hux repeats. Ben is pleased to notice he's short of breath.

“I'll stay with you. I'll join you.” 

“Really?”

“Yes.” It's not like Ben is leaving much behind. Maybe he should have done it a long time ago. 

A smile lights up Hux's face. Ben's never seen it, not like this, and at once, any lingering uncertainty disappears. Ben knows that he'll spend the rest of his life doing what ever it takes to get Hux to smile just like that, as often as possible. 

But there is one last thing Ben has to do. Hux helps him hobble to the shuttle doorway. Outside, the Resistance seems to have won the day. A few Stormtroopers battle on. Tenaciously, Ben thinks, with some admiration. 

“Ben!” As expected, Han is nearby, someone else's blood on his jacket and a dark smudge on his face. “Hang on, son, I'll get you!”

Ben knows he ought to feel conflicted. He should have second thoughts, he should doubt whether he's doing the right thing. He should feel torn apart, but he's never felt more whole. “Make it work with Mom,” he calls, and the shuttle door slides shut again. 

The _Finalizer_ is the largest ship Ben has ever been on. He would love to explore it, to find out everything it has in store, but Hux takes him directly to the medbay. A human doctor in a pristine white coat looks at him with suspicion. 

“Mr. Solo is a new member of the crew,” Hux snaps. “I expect him to make a full recovery as soon as possible.”

The doctor nods. “Yes, sir.” 

“Stay here,” Hux instructs Ben. “Rest. I'll be back to see you as soon as I can.”

“Where are you going?” Ben asks, then realizes it's a stupid question. Hux is the commanding officer, there must be a thousand things for him to take care of. 

Hux sighs. “I have some explaining to do.” 

The doctor is efficient. With the help of a droid, she closes Ben's wound without any pain, then leaves him on a medical bed, a privacy curtain drawn shut around him. Ben lets his eyes close, but he refuses to dwell on the enormity of the step he's just taken. He doesn't regret it—he can't, when it lets him be with Hux—but he doesn't want to mull it over, either. This is his life now. There's no point in thinking about anything else. 

_Welcome to the_ Finalizer. Ben's eyes snap open. The only sound in the medbay is the gentle hum of machinery, and the doctor speaking softly to another patient. _We're very pleased to have you with us, Mr. Solo._ The words come again, directly into Ben's mind. 

“Thank you,” he says, aloud. It's been too long since he communicated with anyone telepathically. It feels awkward.

 _General Hux has indeed chosen a most auspicious friend. I would expect no less of him._

Was this Hux's...boss? Hux had never mentioned telepathy. "Who, ah, who..."

 _Forgive me. I am Snoke, Supreme Leader of the First Order._ Supreme Leader? They didn't know about him in the Resistance. _I am a modest man, Mr. Solo_ , the voice continues. _I prefer to remain in the background. Men like our General Hux are far more suited to the public aspects this life_. 

“Right.” If he could communicate this way, that must mean Snoke was a...

 _I am not a Jedi._ The word is a hiss. _Like you, I have had nothing but poor experiences with those who would term themselves such. But I believe the Force can be useful, integral even, in attaining our goals. You are very strong with the Force, Mr. Solo. Very Strong._

Snoke sounds admiring. It's the first time anyone has said that to Ben without obviously being at least a little bit afraid. _You know you are the grandson of Darth Vader himself?_

“We never really talked about that.” The name had been verboten when Ben was growing up.

 _Then you have been robbed of an important part of your heritage, something which should be a source of pride. I would be more than happy to share my knowledge with you. Not as a master,_ Snoke adds quickly, _but as a guide. If you then decide you wish to extend your abilities, I would be honoured to assist in any way I can._

“All right.” Ben needs to do something. He can't see himself training as a radar technician or anything like that. And it would be interesting to know more about his grandfather, beyond the information he idly researched in secret as a teenager.

 _Once again, Mr. Solo, welcome aboard. General Hux's failure in battle will be forgiven. This time._

Ben waits, but the voice has gone. Ben looks at the ceiling until the curtain is drawn back and Hux appears. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” It's true. “I talked to your boss.”

“I know.” Hux doesn't appear overjoyed. 

“I thought it went well.” 

Hux doesn't say anything. Instead, he draws the curtain shut again and kisses Ben, first on the forehead and then on the lips. He hesitates a moment, then says, “No one's ever done anything like this for me. Not even close. You're really quite remarkable.” 

“Remarkable.” Ben grins. “I like that.” Of all the words people have pinned on him in the past—emotional, susceptible, dangerous, damaged—that one's never been featured. He wonders what words people have pinned on Hux, but he doesn't ask. Not now.

“Get better,” Hux orders. “Soon.”

Ben does. Not soon enough, for his taste, but within twenty four hours, he's released from the medbay and standing in Hux's bedroom for the first time. 

It's neat, of course, and all but bare of personal items. Ben would have been astonished to find it full of family holograms, or memorabilia from some sports team. “You will have to maintain your own quarters,” Hux says, his voice strangely formal, “for appearance's sake. But you are welcome here whenever you like.”

“Great.” Ben waits by the bed, expecting to be kissed. Hux does nothing. “Don't tell me you're shy all of a sudden.”

“No, no.” Hux frowns a little. “I just can't quite...are you sure you're sufficiently healed?”

“I'm fine,” Ben promises. “We'll just have to save the really kinky stuff for later, okay?”

Hux seems happy to be undressed, smiling when Ben runs his hands along his body and kissing Ben's fingers when Ben slides them over his mouth, but there's still something bothering him. Ben can feel it more than he can see it, sense it the way he used to be accustomed to sensing people's emotions. _He's worried_ , Ben thinks. _Not that I'm still hurt. He's nervous, like he was at the banquet. There's something high-stakes at play here, and he thinks he might not be up to it._

Well, Ben helped Hux then, and he'll help him now. Ben pulls off his own shirt. He lets Hux look at him, lets him admire the body that Ben's worked hard to maintain even after he left the rigorous life of the Jedi. When his eyes slide to the bandages on Ben's side, Ben climbs on the bed, on top of Hux, straddling his narrow thighs. Hux's cock twitches at its proximity to Ben's, and Ben licks his lips. 

“Fuck me,” Ben says, matter-of-factly. He hadn't planned this, but now that he's here, there's nothing he wants more.

Hux blinks, even as his cock reacts to the words with marked interest. “I don't usually...”

“Please.”

He might not be used to it, but Hux is more than capable. He grips Ben's hips too gently, at first. When Ben grunts at him, he obediently tightens his grip, thrusting upward while Ben rides him. It's been a long time since Ben's done this, but he can't remember it ever feeling this good. Hux fits him perfectly, his cock just the right size to have Ben shuddering with pleasure on every stroke. He thinks, given a bit of time, he could come from that alone, but then Hux touches him, his thumb circling the tip of Ben's cock. He pulls, hard enough to hurt just a little, while driving into Ben, and that's all it takes. Ben comes, his eyes tight shut. A moment later, Hux does the same, spilling into Ben. It's so intimate it's almost shocking. Ben's forgotten what it feels like to have someone come inside him, to fill him up in that way. It brings a flush to his face, and a smile to his lips.

Afterward, they lie together. Ben is relaxed, happy, but while Hux's tension has eased a little, Ben can still feel it there. “What's wrong?” He says, finally, into the dark. “I feel fine, if you're worried.”

“Snoke is a great leader.” Hux stops. Ben waits, and Hux continues. “He seems to like you very much.” 

“That's a good thing. Right?”

“I...” Hux stops.

“Are you...jealous?” 

“No!” Hux answers so quickly, Ben knows that's it. Although whether he's jealous of Ben or of Snoke is less obvious. “It's just...” Hux shifts in the bed. “You're both big on the..You know, the Force. And I'm not. So what's to keep you from deciding you don't need me one day?”

“A lot, Hux.” Annoyance creeps up on Ben. He's just defected for Hux, and Hux is worried he's going to be—what, _fired?_ —because the boss likes Ben better? “I love you. We're together. My loyalty is to you, not to Snoke.”

“He can be very convincing.”

“And I'm not some fucking kid. I'm here with you, for good. You're not getting rid of me. Ever. Nobody is.” Ben thinks, briefly, of Rey, bent on vengeance and no doubt getting more powerful by the day. That's a worry for another time.

Ben's words help. Hux's anxiety floats away. Ben can almost see it, a wisp disappearing into the ceiling. Hux leans over, resting his head on Ben's chest. Ben runs a hand affectionately through his hair. 

“When you mentioned kinky stuff...” Hux trails off.

“Oh, just you wait.” It's a joke. Ben has always been very conventional in his tastes, but who knows? Hux is certainly inspirational, and they have a long time to explore all sorts of possibilities.

As Ben allows himself to drift closer to sleep, he feels comfortable. More than that, he feels _right_ , for the first time he can remember. He's been hunting this feeling for a long time. He didn't know it then, but now, looking back, it seems obvious that this was what he was looking for all those years ago when he walked out on Luke.

“I still owe you those credits,” Ben murmurs. 

Hux doesn't ask what he's talking about. “I think we're even,” he says, and moves closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your comments and notes! Like I said, I don't write a lot of multi-chapter fics, so I really appreciate the support.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm manitoba-sauce-cake.tumblr.com, but to be honest, I don't post much.


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